Four Word Prompts
by ArtemisApollo97
Summary: A list of four word prompts found on Tumblr, pick one and I'll either write a one-shot for it in a fandom of your choosing
1. Four Word Prompts

**A list of four word prompts I found on Tumblr, so credit respectively, I may turn some of these into one-shots considering I get the time :P**

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"Please come with me."

"You're always number one."

"I can't do this."

"I won't let you."

"Maybe I'm just crazy."

"I'm not even sorry."

"Honestly, just stop it."

"I believe in you."

"Don't be a bitch."

"Who were you with?"

"Please talk to me."

"I can't trust you."

"Don't be fucking rude."

"Is that my shirt?"

"So, it was you."

"I need to go."

"Hey, I said stop!"

"D'you wanna go out?"

"You always this quiet?"

"I don't want you."

"This was never right."

"I'm out of here."

"Just stay with me."

"You can trust me."

"Alright, I love you."

"I'm sorry, but no."

"Will you help me?"

"You're a terrible cook."

"Can you shut up?!"

"You love me, right?"

"I really need you."

"I don't love you."

"I'm not doing this."

"You don't want me."

"Let me help you."

"You're such a bitch."

"You think you're funny?!"

"Will you marry me?"

"Are you fucking insane?"

"Sorry, were you sleeping?"

"You look really tired."

"You need to go."

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 **Pick one :D**


	2. I won't let you

**For AngelWingsRocks-** _ **I won't let you**_ **Miraclous Ladybug edition (I had to check your profile to see which story to pick, sorry! ^_^ )**

 **I own nothing!**

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Chat and Ladybug dived behind an upturned car, stitches plaguing their sides. Chat looked imploringly to his partner, seeing her gnawing at her lip, eyes burning with thought. She stared down at the length of material in her hands, earrings beeping with warning. "You've only got a few minutes." He told her mutely, massaging his side. She peered over the bonnet, ducking quickly as a stream of fire whipped past, the car's body bubbling and hissing. The akuma victim, Inferno, cackled.

"Ladybug, Ladybug, run away home! Your house is on fire and your children are all gone!"

"You have children?" Chat asked, trying to lighten the mood. Ladybug glowered at him, wrapping the fabric around her wrist. Another beep from her Miraculous; Chat toyed with his staff nervously, casting a wary glance through the window. Inferno, encased in her namesake, spotted him instantly, a river of white hot flames thundering towards them, parting around the car, melting glass and steel. The heat made it hard to breathe, like they were drowning in lava. "I resent a black suit sometimes. What are you doing?" He demanded, catching her by the wrist.

"My job." She retorted, tugging her hand free. She knotted the material under her chin, pulling the spare corners over her lower face, effectively covering her head save her eyes. "Think you can distract her for me?"

"What are you going to do?" Her gaze cut back to the raging plume and his cat ears flattened disapprovingly. "No." He said.

"Chat, we're running out of time." Her voice was muffled slightly, but firm as always. "If we don't do something soon, someone is going to get seriously hurt." She pushed her fingers against his arm, trying to get him to run out, eyes narrowing when he didn't budge.

"I won't let you."

"Chat-"

"That's suicide." Her hand went to her ear as beeping sounded frantically. She sighed and turned away, springing up and over the fallen vehicle. Chat yelled after her, running out. Inferno laughed, throwing her head back with mirth. She waved her hands and her power washed over them. Chat lost sight of his lady, diving to one side, sweating and panting in his suit. "Ladybug!" The fire subsided for a moment, Inferno inspecting the damage. She glowered to see the feline hero alive and unburnt, drawing her sword. Waves of heat rolled menacingly from the glowing blade, flickering as she threw it back over her head, readying her power. Chat raced forward on all fours, dodging her attacks, leaping into the air and calling upon his Cataclysm.

Inferno screamed as his paw struck her weapon, a blast of hot air throwing them apart as the sword shattered and cast out a dying wail. Chat noticed the bracelet on her wrist as she fluttered her hands, desperately trying to summon more than wilting sparks.

"I'll kill you!" She shrieked. "Your Miraculous will be mine!" She lunged. Chat extended his staff, preparing himself for a good throwdown, anger boiling under his skin-

A flash of red. Inferno tackled off course. She rolled with the scarlet blur, wrestling and pulling on hair. Chat stood back, heart doing jumping jacks in his chest.

"If you don't kill yourself, I will."

"Rude." Ladybug remarked, smacking Inferno's hand away and snatching the bracelet. She somersaulted away. Chat crushed it in his hand and the akuma wiggled free. Ladybug caught it in her yoyo, less than a minute from detransformation. Chat pointed this out and she whipped her make-shift balaclava off and into the air, encouraging the magic repair with a smile on her lips. "For the record, if you tell me _I won't let you_ again, I will hang up by your tail and use you as a pinata."

"Now who's being rude?" Chat shook his head. "How-?"

"Ask me later. Bug out." She winked and swung away. Chat sighed. His lady was going to be the death of him.


	3. Just stay with me

**For Fezzes at 221b-** _ **Just stay with me**_ **Percabeth edition, set in** _ **The Last Olympian.**_

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Annabeth and Percy had been fighting side-by-side for years now, they knew each other's weaknesses and strengths, knew where the other was at all times, was aware of their situations simultaneously, it was like clockwork, a constant flow of information sending signals to the body, move like this, deflect, parry, stab, move again, cover his left, behind her; it just _worked_.

Until it didn't.

It worked until the one time, that one little second, _moment_ , that it _didn't_.

Percy was fighting at her six, the Styx's power deterring blades, Riptide a bronze blur, disarming demigods, cutting down monsters; Annabeth's knife flashed just as quickly, he could see it from the corner of his eye, could see her appear and disappear with her Yankees cap, startling enemies of all origins left, right and centre. _Dodge, feint, parry, strike, disarm, strike again-_ oooh, pain.

He had experienced pain before, they all had, it was part of the job; you get hurt, you pick yourself up and carry on fighting. This wasn't like that. This was... this was indescribable, it was ice cold, it was white hot, it was a thousand suns splintering across his lower back, the chill of the Artic rushing through his veins. Screaming and rushing blood filled his ears and he swayed, darkness filling the edges of his vision. His arm moved almost automatically, bringing Riptide up a fraction only to lose it a second later.

A whirl of blonde and bronze and then Annabeth was there, using her free hand to put his arm around her shoulders. Her voice was faint, _stay with me, Seaweed Brain, just stay with me_ , as she pushed and fought through the battles raging around her. Percy's head felt like it was swimming, the only anchor the determination in the stormy grey he had come to admire so. Chilling fractures cracked up and down his back, an inferno creeping through his system, sneaking towards his heart. _Hey_ , Annabeth's voice echoed warningly, _eyes on me, you're going to be alright_.

 _No,_ Percy wanted to tell her, _no, that's not true._ His whole mortality sat in the small of his back; _it hurts_ , he tried to say _,_ only a strangled moan making it through the clog in his mind. Her lips were moving again, but he couldn't hear anything over the dwindling thumps of his heart. Someone appeared on his left and they started moving quicker; the base came into view, they were inside, Annabeth's face before his, _Seaweed Brain_ , she called him, brow furrowed and eyes shining as she told him off. Bodies moved around them, mere shadows compared to her. She was caked in grime, monster dust, blood and dirt, pushing her hair irritably from her face, stormy grey, stormy grey, fingers on his cheek, speaking to him and never before had she looked so beautiful. He was lying on his front, medics working frantically, but he wanted nothing more than for them to go away, to leave him with her, he wanted to hold her, wipe away her tears, breathe in that citrus scent, tell her what she meant to him, what she had meant to him for a long time now, it was so obvious, he had been so clueless. He tried to lift his head, to form the words; Annabeth shushed him, smoothing his hair back.

 _You're such an idiot_ , her eyes seemed to say. She blinked and the message changed, her bottom lip trembled and her hand found his. Percy felt tired. His head felt heavy and foggy, limbs like lead; part of him was aware of the crashing waves of hot and cold ripping through his body, but his only focus was stormy grey. Everything else dulled in comparison, wayward tears slicing through the dirt on her face, stormy grey...

The trill in his ears subsided, just for a moment, and he could have sworn he heard her voice, stern and obstinate, a minor quiver, "Stay with me, Percy."

 _I want to_ , his mind called out, _I want to stay... I want to stay with her, I_ have _to stay,_ he tried to rise, _I... I can't...,_ found her eyes instead, _Annabeth... Wise-Girl... I'm sorry..._ Stormy grey.


	4. You're a terrible cook

**For Lucio BetaBlake and Winekita, as you asked for the same one-** _ **You're a terrible cook**_ **Leoisa edition.**

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Leo heard a clattering from the kitchen, quickly followed by cursing and sizzling. Fearing the worst, he poked his head round the door and winced. It _was_ the worst. Louisa was cooking him breakfast.

Well, maybe that's what she thought it was supposed to be, but it looked like lumps of charcoal to Leo. He rapped his knuckles on the door, startling her. The frying pan crashed to the floor, chunks of burnt egg and bacon ricocheting across the tiles. Leo laughed nervously. "Need a hand?"

"No!" She objected stubbornly, fists clenching at her sides and stomping her foot. "Go away!"

"What... um, what are you doing exactly?" Leo smiled sheepishly. She glared, snatching up the pan and dumping it in the sink. Her head snapped round quickly, a dismissive gesture, her ponytail flicking sassily over one shoulder. Leo leant further into the kitchen, keeping his feet on the other side, to survey the mess. He grimaced. He knew Louisa was a messy housemate, but this... this was something new. Pots and pans, empty packets and tins, baked beans spilt over the counters and dripping on the floor, a couple of dropped eggs, somehow there was a strip of bacon on the ceiling and toast sitting blackened in the toaster, she had knocked over the orange juice carton, shut the tee towel in the fridge door, the remains of boiled eggs sitting crushed and dejected in a bowl, bits of shell stuck to their whites. The more he looked, the worse it got.

He looked round as the pan struck the floor again, this time spraying suds and water. She cursed profusely in her multitude of languages; Leo spotted a broken plate in the bin. "Are you alright?"

"I was tryin' ta make ya breakfast."

"I can see that, but, um... one _minor_ thing..." He shone a lopsided smile her way, pressing his thumb and forefinger together. "You know, it's nothing immediately serious, just a _tiny_ little detail that... uh..." He scratched at his chin, choosing his next words carefully, "it's alright, just a sort-of problem-not-problem, if that makes sense, but..." He rubbed at the back of his neck, casting another glance at the wake of her metaphorical hurricane. She tipped her chin up, _daring_ him to say it. Leo hesitated, biting his lip. He decided to go along with it anyway. "You're a _terrible_ cook."

Her eyes narrowed. Leo figured he should run. "Just thought you should know." He squeaked and scarpered.


	5. You always this quiet?

**For Lucio BetaBlake and Cheorkee rememberer gamer98-** _ **You always this quiet?**_ **Alvastor edition!**

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Alva swung by the workshop, breathing in the smell of molten metal, burning wood and saddle polish. She had been cooped up at home all morning, helping her mother with the spring clean, but she was free now! Free! Her heart felt ready to sing, _free_! She still had a few hours of daylight to train, but first, she had to collect her axe. Her father had dropped it by Gobber's forge yesterday afternoon for some good old maintenance. Humming to herself, Alva rapped her knuckles on the window frame, peering through the open shutters and smiling.

 _Alastor_.

Ooohhh, how she _loved_ tormenting the Haddock boy! He would go an _adorable_ shade of crimson, stuttering and wringing his hands, sometimes tripping over his own feet, but what she also loved was catching him off guard. When he thought no-one was there to tease him, no-one was watching him, where he was in his own little world away from the likes of Arne and Hackett. He hadn't heard her knock, sparks whirring a million miles an hour from the curve of her axe against the grindstone. She couldn't see his face, but his hands worked with a steadiness she had never seen in them before, strong hands despite their size, scarred from metal work and dragon training alike, sleeves rolled up over tanned arms, so like his father, so sweetly so. She wasn't into the macho type, not really, prancing around and flexing their muscles, like girls would fall, swooning, at their feet just for _that_.

No, Alva liked a little more class, a little more _brain_.

Alastor lifted the axe, running a thumb experimentally along the edge. He turned towards her slightly, trying to catch the light. He still didn't notice her, but she saw the look of utmost concentration on his face, his tongue between his teeth as he thought.

Gobber came in from the back room, nodding at her. He opened his mouth to talk; Alva put a finger to her lips, gaining another nod. Alastor faced his mentor, effectively turning away from her again. Gobber collected a few materials and left, patting Alastor on the head for his good work.

Alastor waited until the big man had gone before smoothing his blond hair down again, shaking his head with a sigh; Alva could almost hear the smile in it. He propped the axe against the table, turning the handle of the grindstone again, the lean muscles of his arms gaining some minor definition as he did so.

Alva decided to get his attention before the racket started again.

"You always this quiet?" He startled, axe flying from his hands and embedding itself in a support column. When he whirled round to stare at her, he was that furious crimson and his hands came together before him, toying with the other anxiously. "If you're not too busy gawking and stammering, I'd like my axe please." He looked round helplessly, having accidentally thrown the axe slightly out of his reach. Alva made no move to help him, highly amused. Alastor hurriedly surveyed the workshop, dragging a stool out from under the table and clambering up on it to dislodge the axe. He did this with some difficulty, toppling from the stool as it suddenly sprang free. Alva decided to help then.

Laughing into her hand, she approached, stopping at his side so the tips of her boots brushed his shoulder. If possible, he was even redder than before, hand atop the axe to stop it from slicing his face off. "Are you alright?"

"Define alright." He grumbled.

"Need a hand?"

"N-no. Th-thanks." He added quickly, rolling onto his side and using her weapon as leverage. "Uh... here. Axe." Alastor mentally kicked himself- _no duh_! "I, um, there's some... I've got m-more wo-work and... uh..."

"Nonsense!" Gobber called, making his protogee jump again. "Ye've done enough for today, lad. Go on, off wit' ya." Gobber waved them out. Alastor stared at him pleadingly. The blacksmith only ushered them out, closing the door behind them with a chuckle.

"Well, now that you're not busy, how about another sparring session? I promise not to try and take your legs off this time." He pinched the hem of his shirt nervously, sleeves sliding down his arms a tiny bit at a time. "Al?" She prompted, poking his shoulder. His sleeves now covered his hands and he started chewing his thumbnail. "Are you sure you're alright? Do you need a healer? That _was_ quite a fall, did you hit your head?"

"I'm OK." He squeaked.

"Would you tell your face that?" He looked away again, gnawing at his lip. Alva smiled and plonked her axe on her shoulder. "Come on, Al, I don't bite. Much." She grinned wickedly and he looked ready to run for the hills. "Let's put it this way- lunch is on me. And you won't even have to talk if you don't want to, I'm sure I can talk for both of us."

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 **Any requests from the list, let me know!**


	6. I'm not even sorry

**For Lauralkelley99-** _ **I'm not even sorry**_ **Jackson-Valdez edition! Apologies in advance if it's crap, it's been a long day D:**

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Charlie and Callum lay in wait, geared up and hidden behind the sofa. They didn't dare peek over the top, peering through the small gap beneath. Percy was sat on the couch, aware that they were there and not even bothering to stop them. It had been one of _those_ days of looking after his nephew and decided that, just this once, he'll let the pranks slide.

Little did he know who they were waiting for.

Oh, had he known, he'd have saved them the bloodshed.

They rigged the front door, timing it just so for Sage to walk in. The second her key went in the lock, all hell was going to break loose. In the end, however, it wasn't even the hell they were expecting.

Sage's key scraped in the lock, quickly followed by a scream. Percy turned in his seat, kneeling up to frown down at the pair. Charlie smiled sweetly. Callum was on his phone, thumbs controlling two circular pads on the screen, tongue stuck out in concentration. Percy tipped his head to one side and could see Sage's shoes and lower legs on the phone. She was hopping about and cursing, something he could hear through the door, stomping her feet when she saw the device Callum was controlling. Charlie hissed as she booted it, the camera atop the remote control car cracking and fizzing violently, digital burns searing across the screen.

She barged the door open, not thinking in her temper. Percy looked round innocently, bringing the remote up from behind the couch. His daughter was covered in lime jelly, globs of it sticking to her hair and face, plastic spiders mixed in. Charlie and Callum separated, Charlie as Spiderman and drawing her attention. Callum skirted the outsides of the living room, sneaking up behind her. Percy resumed his slouching on the sofa, watching them dubiously. Callum was dressed in black from head to foot and Charlie had stitched tights stuffed with black socks to his T-shirt, giving the impression of eight limbs. They moved with Callum's real arms, a faint glimmer of fishing wire between them.

Sage's harsh opening of the door had set off a cacophany of racket and tricks, plunging the room into near darkness. Percy flicked the television on, hearing a sharp whack and Callum groaning in pain. Charlie started laughing, pressing his lips together when she rounded on him. Callum was lying on the floor, hands over his nose.

"You know I _hate_ spiders."

" _Si_." Charlie nodded, rolling up his mask. Percy was a little confused- this prank didn't seem right. Normally, Charlie would do something drastic, much more creative than spider jelly. What-? Oh. Oh no.

Sage seemed to realise at the exact time her father did. Charlie had cleverly hidden a pressure mat beneath the rug and one behind the door. When both were activated, it released the next wave of torment- robotic spiders.

And not the robotic spiders of the Tunnel of Love, robotic spiders that were also a mariachi band, miniature instruments included. Sage was torn between screaming and running for her life or stomping on them all. Charlie whipped out his phone and snapped a quick picture. That's when her senses came back to her. Under the green jelly and black of the fake spiders, she turned a furious shade of crimson. Charlie raised a brow at her, watching her from the corner of his eye as he tapped out a series of tags for his Tumblr blog.

"Charlie..." She growled.

"Mm?"

"I don't know how you find this funny, but-"

"Don't tell me to apologise. I'm not even sorry."

"You will be." And she pounced. Charlie squealed, throwing up his hands- and his phone- and disappearing under a mass of blonde curls, green dessert and a terrible prank backfired. Callum sat up to watch, bloody nose pressed against the back of his hand. He looked at his father and shrugged.

Charlie had a few more tricks up his sleeves, spraying his violent cousin with silly string and ribbons and dropping more toy spiders that she recoiled from as they wrestled and rolled across the floor. They knocked over a table, a lamp- Charlie ended up wearing the lampshade as a hat somehow- a pile of architecture magazines; Sage snatched one of these up, batting him on the head. Percy dropped a text to his brother-in-law. Leo demanded a video. _And Lou's on her way._

 _Yeah, that's not going to work._

 _Why?_

 _Spiders._

 _D:_

 _Yeah... a shame really, I was starting to like Charlie._

 _Hey! :(_

 _:D_

"I'm too pretty to die!"

"Apologise!"

"Never!"

"You two are worse than Tobias. Sage, don't _strangle_ him!"

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 **I'm really tired D:**


	7. Can you shut up!

**For SeaweedOwlBrain-** _ **Can you shut up?!**_ **HTTYD edition!**

* * *

Hiccup had often considered not bringing Snotlout anywhere, particularly of late. He didn't know what it was about his cousin, but every time they ventured away from the Edge on a scouting mission, especially when it was just them, he wished he had hit Snotlout a bit harder- maybe it would have knocked some sense into the arrogant teen.

Hacking their way through foliage, Hiccup mentally sighed. No, he often had to bring Snotlout with him- the other dragons didn't have armour and if Hiccup left Snotlout _and_ the twins, Astrid would have his head for sure. But with the decrease of hunter activity, Snotlout had grown bored and this often led to him being more annoying than usual. And this could be annoying from whistling dry tunes, incessant flirting with Astrid, showing off, 'Snotlout, Snotlout, oy oy oy!', firing up the twins and then complaining when they went completely off the other end, more flirting with Astrid, imitating Fishlegs rather cruelly and doing everything he could to get on Hiccup's last nerve while simultaneously staying out of hitting range. He had had a nice thick layer of bruises and two vicious black eyes and even Snotlout could learn from a lesson like that.

This was a training session, courtesy of Astrid. It was to prepare them for being separated from their dragons and to improve teamwork and partnership within the group. She had paired Fishlegs with Tuffnut, herself with Ruffnut and Hiccup with Snotlout and a hissed apology. "I figured if anyone could shut Snotlout up, it would be you. Don't be mad?"

"If I'm not mad now, I will be when we group up."

Snotlout started humming, trying to come up with a dynamic song worthy of his greatness. Hiccup had heard every tune under the sun, every combination, every repeat over the last three hours, be it in a hum or a whistle or Snotlout attempting to create lyrics. Ocassionally he would ask for something that would rhyme with 'Snotlout' or 'brave' or 'awesome' or any variation of those. "Hey, Hiccup?"

"What?"

"Are we lost?"

"No."

"I'm sure we've walked past that tree three times now." Hiccup rolled his head to one side, following Snotlout's point.

"No." But he didn't sound sure. Having been trying to block out Snotlout's endless tirade of stupidity, Hiccup hadn't been a hundred percent focused on their surroundings. Snotlout must have heard the hesitation in his tone as he muscled his way forward, standing tall and proudly putting his hands on his hips.

"I'll get us there, you watch." He snatched the lantern from his cousin's hand and marched off rather confidently. "This way!" Hiccup grumbled and stomped after him rather reluctantly, this time paying extra careful attention to the trees. "Snotlout the Brave, Snotlout the Fierce!" Snotlout began singing at the top of his lungs. "Snotlout the Warrior, Snotlout the _Heeeerroooooo_!"

"Snotlout the Impertinent." Hiccup muttered. Snotlout didn't hear him, tumbling into full swing.

"Snotlout will save you all! Every man, woman and child will... uh... Hiccup, help me out here?"

"No."

"You're so miserable."

"I'm stuck with you, of course I'm miserable."

"Mmph." Snotlout set off at a faster pace, knowing full well that Hiccup was struggling- his left foot was constantly sliding on the dirt and fallen wet leaves. The storm of last night was still heavy in the air, the wind charged and promising more rainfall. Hiccup had tried talking Astrid out of this, but she insisted these were perfect conditions for the exercise. "Maybe I should go with something like Dragon Conquerer, seeing as you're not using that."

"Be my guest." Hiccup deadpanned, feeling fatigue set in.

"What rhymes with 'conquerer'?" Hiccup didn't respond. Snotlout started going over his limited vocabulary, changing the lyrics for the umpteenth time. Then he started whistling again; he couldn't whistle properly, it sounded breathy and just down right annoying. Started humming, back to whistling, back to singing as loudly as he could. Hiccup kept looking round, feeling eyes on him. The last thing he needed was a wild dragon attack, but with a little luck, a wild dragon would quiet Snotlout. Even if it only worked for a minute, Hiccup would praise every god he could think of.

Snotlout stopped in a clearing, looking round. Hiccup stopped behind him, strapping his shield to his back and flexing the cramp from his arm and hand. "This way." Snotlout said, setting off again. Hiccup sighed. "To rise, to conquerer, to save, to cherish, Snotlout is the best!" This tune was a little more upbeat. "Snotlout, Snotlout, oy oy o-!"

" _Can you shut up_?!"

Snotlout froze and whirled round, gaping at his cousin. Hiccup stared back, not quite sure where that eruption had come from.

They stood, two metre aparts, undecisive as to what they should make of the other.

Then Snotlout set his jaw, set for an arguement. Hiccup shushed him before a single word had left his lips. Snotlout started again, Hiccup shushed him again. This went on for a few minutes until Hiccup drew out the shush as long as he could. Snotlout angered, fists clenching at his sides. Words stuck in his throat and he glared at Hiccup. Hiccup sighed in relief, running a hand through his hair. "Never become a bard. I will _pay you_ to _never_ become a bard. You can't sing and not just because you can't come up with a decent song, but you _really can't sing_ , you can't even whistle properly-"

"I'm parched!"

"You've got water!"

"We have to ration it, we've no idea how long we're going to be out here!"

"We could have been there by now if you shut up for five minutes!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like!" Hiccup exasperated. "Right, I'm going to lead from now on, you can keep an eye out for any danger; gods know you've attracted every human-hating, wild dragon from every corner of the island. And while you're doing that, you will only talk when you need to, no singing or whistling or humming or asking me stupid questions, my head feels like it's going to explode."

"Now who's impertinent?"

"Do you even know what that means?"

"No..."

"Then shut up."

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 **If you've got any other requests from the list, let me know! I've run out! ^_^**


	8. Is that my shirt?

**For RockRoy-** _ **Is that my shirt**_ **? Marvel edition! Be warned, I've never written anything Marvel before, so if they're OC-ish, SORRY! I LOVE MARVEL REALLY, HONEST! Deadpool! ^_^**

* * *

As usual, Clint was the first to rise, this time awoken by his stomach growling. He could smell pancakes, but it was still dark out, the sun barely close to the horizon. With a frown, he dropped from his night time perch and recovered his favoured weapons, sliding his feet soundlessly across the floor. He hurried down the steps on light feet and rounded the corner, pressing his shoulder to the wall and nocking an arrow.

The kitchen light was on, the heavenly scent of pancakes torturing his senses. He could hear someone humming what sounded like the Spice Girls, a shadow flitting across the square of pale illumination on the hall floor. Clint straightened his spine, tipping his head forward to peer around the edge. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, running a million possibilites through his head, deciding a inhibiting shot for each one. Instead, he got _him_.

Ooh, they all knew about _him_ , they kept tabs on him as best they could. Spiderman moreso, the webbed warrior tangled with this nutcase more than he cared to acknowledge.

"Deadpool."

"Clinty, baby!" Clint groaned in annoyance, rising and flicking the lights on. "I made breakfast!" Deadpool threw his arms wide, beaming under his mask. He wore a full body apron reading _Kiss the Pool_ , his arms bare and as scarred as ever. He shuffled about in Hello Kitty socks without a care in the world. Clint wasn't too worried about that though- Tony was going to have a fit. Every surface in the kitchen was covered in tottering towers of pancakes, all golden and perfectly round, the ones at the top steaming gently, the whole delicious aroma making Clint's stomach growl again, relentlessly. Deadpool rolled up his mask, mischievous grin in place. "I'd give you a plate, but I've lost them."

"How did you make so many and _why_ did you make so many at _three o'clock in the morning_?"

"Why do you sound surprised?" Deadpool took a stack and carried them over, dumping them in his friend's arms. "Now, where are the others? These pancakes aren't going to eat themselves!"

"Natasha's going to shoot you."

"Healing factor." Deadpool bounced out. Clint sighed, but bowed his head to sample a pancake all the same. Say what you like about Deadpool, but his pancakes were the best.

When the gunshot sounded, Clint didn't even startle. He was on his third pancake by then. If Deadpool hadn't woken anyone up by then, his ranting and swearing did, followed by his wailing and Natasha kicking him- _literally_ \- from the room. Clint rambled out, quite enjoying this. Deadpool was a heap of tangled limbs on the floor, muttering under his breath, a bullet hole healing at the base of his throat.

"I did warn you." Clint smirked. Deadpool said nothing, rolling onto his front and clumsily pushing himself up. Natasha appeared in the doorway, squinting at Deadpool, gun pointed steadyingly at his head. A clatter from upstairs and Bruce stumbled onto the landing in his over-sized pyjamas, yawning. Steve appeared beside him, giving the invader a curious look.

"How did you get in here?" He asked.

"For me to know and you to never find out. On an unrelated note, your bathrooms are astounding." Steve sighed, nodding at the archer who went to check. He patted Bruce on the shoulder and hopped over the railings. "Wow, no superhero landing. I wasn't expecting that."

"What do you want?"

"I made breakfast! And buried your kitchen as a result, but hey." The red-clad mercenary shrugged and smiled. Natasha flipped a knife from her sleeve and slashed at him, cutting the apron from him in two swift movements.

"Is that my shirt?" She demanded.

"I find it flattering." Deadpool struck a pose, leaning forward slightly with one hand on his hip and the other blowing a kiss to the captain. Steve dropped his head into his hand, mumbling incoherently. Natasha was toying with the blade in her left, the butt of her gun bouncing restlessly against her thigh. Deadpool had 'borrowed' one of her SHIELD T-shirts, navy blue and short-sleeved with the logo on the back. It fit Natasha perfectly, but was tight on him, a little too tight. This didn't stop him flexing and posing like no tomorrow, dropping careless pick-up lines and flirting shamelessly with Steve and then Clint when he returned. He tried one on the redhead; she put a bullet through his knee and kicked him over.

"It's three o'clock in the morning. If there is any time for you, it definitely isn't now." She whirled on her heel and flounced back into her room, kicking the door shut behind her.

"I might keep this." Deadpool said from where he lay, patting himself on the chest.

"Why?" Clint sighed.

"Souvenior."

"Go home, Deadpool." Steve advised.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I am home!"

"NO!" Natasha burst from her room in a blur of scarlet, gun blazing, eyes furious. Steve and Clint backpedaled hastily. Bruce was snoozing against the bannister, propped up on his elbows. He opened an eye lazily to survey the mayhem, saw Tony emerge from the workshop with his repulsors. The mechanic stopped short, having not expected Deadpool either. He looked up at Bruce, brow raised. Bruce just shrugged. Natasha had run out of bullets, threw aside her gun and pounced, cat-like. Deadpool wailed.

"Get back!" He demanded, scrambling as quickly as he could peppered with bullets. "Oh, if only the writer could think of something more creative, I may just live to eat my breakfast!"

* * *

 **As I said, I've never written Marvel before. Sorry if this is pants!**


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